


Partner in Crime

by Ourladyofresurrection



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Because both Y/N and Ricky want dat ASS, C.C. Tinsley - Freeform, F/M, I am so sorry, Reader saves Ricky from persecution, Reader-Insert, Requests, Ricky Goldsworth/Reader - Freeform, Ricky Goldsworth/fem!reader - Freeform, Semi-discreet offer of a threesome, Tinsley is a dumbass, ricky goldsworth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ourladyofresurrection/pseuds/Ourladyofresurrection
Summary: Request! from @amcfuckintop on tumblr: “Hiya! Can you do a HC with Ricky Goldsworth x reader where she’s his ‘partner in crime’?”In which the reader comes to the rescue when Ricky Goldsworth has finally been caught.





	Partner in Crime

Ricky was cornered.

He wasn’t particularly pleased about this fact, for reasons that should be astoundingly obvious to anyone who had ever met the man. Well, anyone who had met the man and lived to tell the tale, that is.

Despite Ricky’s discontent, he was nestled uncomfortably tight in the web of knowledge that lead him to the inescapable fact that Life was the one thing he couldn’t seduce—nor threaten, to do his bidding.

So, there he stood: pissed as a sailor in dry season, with a gun pressed firmly against his temple and an increasingly insufferable detective purring in his ear.

“Thought you got the best of me, huh, Goldsworth?”

Ricky struggled against his grip, which Tinsley only held more tautly, cocking the gun in warning. He slackened, not in defeat— no, quite the opposite. He put on one of his jaw-aching cheshire grins and allowed his black eyes to sparkle, “Oh, but didn’t I?”

Tinsley appeared nonplussed by the flirtation, allegedly well acclimated to it over the years, though a certain successful seduction in the not too distant past would hint otherwise.

“Your defences are down, I’ve got you pinned against the wall with a fully loaded gun to your head, and you don’t have a prayer— let alone a shiv fastened to your tie to stab me with again. I’d rather say I have the upper hand here,  Ricky .”

He growled under his breath at the flippant use of his name, but didn’t let that sway the earnest look in his eyes, or the way his lips curled enticingly over his snarled teeth.

“Oh, piss off. You’ve been just waiting for a moment to have me all to yourself, detective. Playing this little game of cat-and-mouse to give you inspiration to tent your trousers when you get lonely at night.”

He purred at the downright livid expression on the detective’s face, nipping at the hand that threatened to close over his mouth, “You’re not going to do a damn thing,  detective .”

As good of a criminal as Ricky was, Tinsley held almost the same level of prestige in his field— well, he would, had he not let far too many clients loose out of plain, blatant, and unapologetic attraction to them. Frankly— not as though Ricky would ever admit it, the only reason he was a free man was because Tinsley let him go far too many times for it to be an accident.

This time, though, it seems as though Tinsley had other plans.

“I called backup...they’re coming,” he hissed, jutting the gun harshly against his head, between his eyes.

“Like Hell you did,” Ricky drawled, chuckling a little to himself.

And that’s when he heard the sirens. Bleating westward, growing exponentially louder in a way that made it hard to deny exactly where they were going, and who they were going for.

He glanced at Tinsley’s face, looking for any sign of bluffing, anything that would posit a last minute chance to escape yet again, a reprieve. He searched in those deep brown eyes and he found nothing beyond that steely gaze.

His face fell, the unmistakable smell of gunpowder itching at his nose, the tinge of blood seeping into his tongue from the corner of his mouth from biting down far too hard, the sirens swinging closer.

“ Fuck ,” he snarled, spitting at Tinsley’s face, “let me go you son of a  bitch.”

His voice was resigned to animalistic now, hardly sounding human as he grew increasingly desperate, thoughts pacing like a caged lion as he struggled in the tight grip, seizing.

Half a dozen agents jumped out of the surrounding cars, yelling indistinctly as they made their way over to him, promising his capture, promising he would never roam these streets again. Ricky’s ears swum with dreaded anticipation.

Suddenly, they stopped, eyes zeroed in on something in the opposite direction, mouths agape. One by one, they fell backwards, clutching their stomachs, red seeping onto the pavement below as the line of officers collapsed like dominoes onto the floor below.

Tinsley exhales sharply, moving away from Ricky, eyes following the sight and gun shakily dropping. Ricky squirmed and met where his gaze was leading.

There, standing silently triumphant behind the array of bodies, stood a familiar figure.

“Who in the goddamn Hell—“ Tinsley managed.

“ Y/N ,” Ricky breathed.

“ Y/N ?” the detective parroted, looking between the two, mentally trying to form a connection.

The girl moved forward, stalkingly, like a predator circling its prey. Ricky just watched, enamoured, chest heaving, feet plastered to the ground. Tinsley noted how he wasn’t running.  Why wasn’t he running?

“Detective Tinsley,” she said, sounding just slightly bored, as if she hadn’t just shot six men dead, “your reputation precedes you.”

Tinsley remained mute like the smart man he was. He feared if he opened it, the gun would be shoved down his throat. This girl was clearly ruthless, perhaps even more so than Ricky, who looked more starstruck than anything right now.

She fiddled with his collar, having to lean up quite significantly to do so. She was small. Smaller than Ricky, at least, “Mmh,” she said in a noncommittal tone, “tall.”

Her hand moved to cup his jaw, tilting his head, “Ricky wasn’t lying...you’re quite handsome.”

Tinsley spared a glance sideways to Ricky, who looked flustered as his grit his teeth, “Not a word, detective.”

“Such a shame to see such a pretty face go,” she purred, “though I’m sure Ricky will be seeing you soon. Perhaps I’ll tag along next time, I hear you’re not a stranger to pinning your adversaries against the wall.”

Tinsley squeezed his eyes shut, wondering how in the Hell he ended up in a situation like this. Ricky was enough work by himself, but now he had an equally as taxing of a....lady friend?

“Go,” she said simply, “we’ll be seeing you around, I presume?”

Tinsley blinked, stumbling backwards a little clumsily, then he started to leave.

“And detective?”

Tinsley turned to look at her.

“Next time, don’t bother bringing your friends.”

With that, Tinsley took off down the street, disappearing out of sight.

Y/N smoothed down Ricky’s collar, tugging once on his tie, “You get too invested, Ricky, too close. ‘Get yourself killed one day.”

“Baby, you know I can’t die,” he said smoothly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Y/N softened, if only slightly, pressing her palm against his chest, “If you do, I might just have to get with that strapping detective of yours.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course,” he drawled, “after all, you  are my partner in crime.”

“Hm,” she pondered, thumb brushing away a spec of gunpowder along his cheekbone, “partner in crime, huh?”

Ricky took her hand, “ Always , Y/N.” 

And with that, they walked all the way back to Ricky’s apartment, a certain detective a mere two blocks away in his own, trying to make sense of the events that just transpired before his eyes.

He knew one thing for certain, which was that if he were to chase Goldsworth again, he’d have a considerable tag-team on his hands, and that was a risk he was more than willing to take.


End file.
